Head Over Heels
by sad surfer
Summary: Peter learns to slow down for a beautiful girl he meets at a music store. OC x Quicksilver
1. 01

**PETER**

Peter stands outside the record shop collecting his courage to step inside. "Just smile and be normal," he whispers to himself.

 _Normal._

 _Yeah, because I know anything about normal._

He straightens the cuffs of his silver leather jacket and glances into the store. The girl spurring these anxious feelings is sitting behind the register with her feet propped on the counter and a book clutched in her black painted nails. Her inky hair  
/cascades over her shoulders and down her back like a dark waterfall. Blindly, she reaches for her cherry slushie and sips from the neon blue straw. Her pale eyes never leave the pages of her novel.

Finally, he takes a deep breath and walks through the door, a chime rings, signaling a customer has entered. The girl is oblivious to its metallic echo.

When she doesn't acknowledge him, Peter edges toward the counter where he stands waiting for her attention.

Waiting is not something he does often. His foot taps impatiently on the linoleum floor, his fingers tap a silent rhythm against his thigh.

She's reading Stephen King's _Carrie_.

Peter coughs and the girl glances at him through her thick lashes.

"Can I help you?" she swings her legs from the counter and sits up on the stool, setting all four pegs back on the ground.

Peter's mind goes blank for what is surely the first time. He always has a snarky anecdote to quip but with this girl's wide, icy eyes staring up at him he has lost all ability to speak.

 _Shit._

 _She's even prettier up close._

Her thick brows arch is confusion at the silent boy before her. The minimal patience she possesses is wearing thin.

"I, uh, I'm looking for a record," Peter sputters, heat rising up his pale neck and across his cheeks.

 _Stop stuttering._

 _Annunciate._

 _No one likes a guy who babbles like an idiot._

"And which one could it possibly be?" she replies seeming bored with the whole situation. His sights flit to her shirt, the iconic chrome logo of Van Halen is printed across her petite chest.

"Ah, Van Halen," he offers quickly. "If ya got any." That elicits a minuscule grin from the girl.

"Yeah, it's over here," she stands and leads him to the back of the store where shelves display vinyls and piles sit on the floor. "This one is my personal favorite." She bends down to retrieve the thick paper case then hands it to Peter.

He chuckles nervously when he light eyes meet his dark ones.

 _God, she's perfect._

"Nine eighty-nine," the girl murmurs. Peter hesitates, not used to actually paying for things, then pulls a black and white checkered wallet from his back pocket and hands her a crinkled ten-dollar bill.

"If you write your name and number here," the girls points to the small yellowed notepad sitting before her, "I can call you when a new one comes out."

 _She's not asking for your number she's just being polite._

Peter grips the blue ball point pen she's holding out to him and scribbles his name and home phone.

 _Say something charming._

"So, um, I guess I'll see you soon or when you call me, which you should but it doesn't have to be on the Van Halen record-" He's off on a tangent and the girl is smiling, her bright white teeth shining.

"Okay," she glances at the notebook, "Peter."

 _It worked._

 _Holy shit!_

 _I'm such a lady killer._

"I'm gonna go before I embarrass myself," he says more to himself than the blue-eyed girl.

She lets out a solitary giggle then responds, "I believe it's a little too late for that."

 _Beautiful and funny; she's too good to be true._

* * *

A/N: So I know I sorta abandoned this story like a year ago but after coming back and reading the original first chapter I decided to rewrite it and take it in a new direction. Hopefully I'm not disappointing anybody!

In reply to chibi-no-baka: I think this revamp might clear up why Peter didn't steal the record (he wants to meet the girl thus uses buying it as an excuse to try talking to her). And my fic does, in fact, take place in the 70s.


	2. 02

A/N: In this chapter I introduce Lorna Dane (Maximoff for my purposes) as Peter's unnamed little sister in DOFP because I love Polaris too much for her not to be in this fic.

P.S. Sorry in advance for the length...it's more of a filler to set up for the next chapter than anything else.

* * *

 **PETER**

"Petey, what are you doing?" Lorna asks as she skips into the living room, her neon green tutu bouncing with each excited jump.

"Waiting for the phone to ring," he replies. He's sitting on the couch, elbow propped on the arm rest with his chin atop his fist, and staring at the phone mounted on the wall beside the bookcase.

His black high top sneakers are tapping on the wooden floor boards with a extreme level of impatience.

"Why?" she counters. She makes her way to the multicolored circular rug before the television and surfs through the channels until an older episode of The Brady Bunch appears.

"None of your beeswax."

Unsatisfied with his response, Lorna begins listing off the endless possibilities for why her brother could possibly be waiting for a phone call. "Are you in trouble again? Did you steal something really big? Mommy's gonna be so mad."

Peter shakes his head.

"So, nothing bad...is it a girl? Is she pretty? Where'd you meet her? What's she look like? Is she your-"

 _Girlfriend? I wish._

The little girl begins pawing at the thick piece of tape over her peachy lips with eyes wide with surprise. They narrow in aggravation when she sees Peter leaning back on the couch, one arm resting behind his head and the other holding a roll of greyduct  
/tape.

"You done, Chatterbox?"

* * *

 **ROSE**

 _He wants you to call him. Just do it._

Rosemary runs her fingers across the red plastic of her rotary phone and rereads his number.

 _Just do it already._

She punches the number in and holds her breath as the line trills. Before the second dial tone vibrates through the speaker a familiar voice enters and Rosemary smiles.

"Maximoff residence, Peter speaking" he answers sarcastically.

"Hey, it's Rose," she pauses then realizes he wouldn't know her by name. "From the record store on Twelfth Street."

"Oh, hi. Hey, what's up," he blurts, a grin evident in his tone.

"Well, I was just thinking about the record you bought and I know a few others by different bands you might like so maybe you could come by tomorrow so I can show you.." her voices grows softer as she trails off.

"Yeah, yeah, totally," he replies eagerly. "W-what time?"

"Around closing would be good. There's not usually a lot of customers so we'd have the store to ourselves," a blush fans across her full cheeks.

"It's a date," Peter responds without much thought to his blunt insinuation.

 _It is a date, isn't it?_

 _No, definitely not._

"Well don't get too far ahead of yourself, Pete," she laughs lowly, the gravelly sound in her throat sending warmth through Peter's chest.


	3. 03

**ROSE**

Rosemary sits perched on her metal stool the two front legs levitating an inch or two over the tile floor as she leans back against the wall. _The Exorcist_ is currently balancing in her lap, after a few hours she grew tired of reading and  
began staring out the large bay window of the store, hoping to see the silver-haired boy.

 _What if he doesn't show?_

A tall woman enters, her blonde curls are pulled into a ponytail that sweeps over her shoulder.

Rose's chest sinks at the realization that it's not Peter.

It's a quarter-past seven and the store closes at half-past eight so she convinces herself that there's still time and the boy wouldn't dare stand her up.

The woman edges toward the counter with a Beatles vinyl. After processing her purchase, Rose bids the woman a "thank you" and "see you soon" then turns her attention to the small portable radio on the counter beside the register. She flicks through the  
stations and cranks the volume high enough that the speakers begin to buzz with the rhythm of The Rolling Stone's _Paint it Black_.

"This is a good song," a masculine voice shouts.

A soft smile etches the girl's features when she looks up to see Peter idling by the entrance. Immediately she lowers the song and walks around the barrier so they're standing in front of each other. It's in that moment that Rosemary notices how tall  
he really is and how small she feels, intimidation bubbles in her abdomen.

The feeling dissipates when a lopsided grin spreads across his face. He fidgets with a pair of chrome framed goggles, tucking them up at his crown and pushing his hair back.

 _Why is he wearing goggles? Is it some sort of fashion statement?_

"Hi," she says softly.

"Hi."

They stare at each other for a moment before someone calls, "Rosemary, come here real quick", and the black haired teen snaps her head in the direction of the voice.

Peter smiles to himself; it suits her perfectly.

"I'll be right back," she says before walking to the side door and nudging it open with her striped tennis shoe.

Rowan, Rose's eldest brother, is standing in the storage room surrounded by tan cardboard boxes, all filled with musical memorabilia. He peers between a set of tall boxes, his cerulean eyes heavy.

"Dad wants these hung on the windows, just put up a few," he states pointing to a small poster stack held in place by an intricate knot of rubber bands. Rose nods and grabs the bundle. "You can leave after, I'll lock up."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, you did it yesterday so I'll take care of it today," he offers a tight lipped smile as he turns back to the boxes and lifts his lightly tanned hands. A white glow consumes his palms and coats the objects in his vicinity, they begin moving onto  
shelves and arranging themselves.

"This is some freaky shit," Peter announces from behind the pages of Rose's novel when she reappears.

"It's horror, what were you expecting?" She places the stack of band posters on the ground and flips through until she finds four different ones, then pulls the tape dispenser from the bottom shelf of the wall display which houses limited edition records  
and merchandise.

"Definitely not a little girl killing priests," he notes, a look of displeasure contorting his features.

Peter paces around the store, his gray sneakers squeaking with each step, as Rose plasters the posters on the windows. She flicks off the LED "open" sign and turns to Peter whom is busying himself with a tote of cassette tapes.

"You like Pink Floyd," she states remembering the prism tee he had been wearing the day before.

"Mhmm," he hums sweetly as he stands, his black bomber jacket covered arms cradling five or so cassettes. Rose waves him to the counter where she retrieves a petite pile of records.

"These are from my _personal collection_ ," at the top of the stack is Pink Floyd's _The Dark Side of the Moon_. "You can borrow these- if you want."

"You're fantastic," Peter murmurs. His dark eyes go wide when he realizes he's said that out loud. A scorching blush graces the planes of his face.

Rose blushes too and begins to utter something unintelligible but surely along the lines of a compliment.

It's in that moment, under the artificial lighting of the little shop, that Peter notices the slight deviation in the color of Rose's eyes. Her left eye has completely shaded a hue of warm turquoise while her right has this edge of light brown creeping  
through the blue. From a distance, the difference is nearly undetectable but standing less than a foot away one can see the honeycomb pattern of her iris and the chocolate streaks that decorate the outline of her pupil and melt into one-half of her  
eye.

His heart hammers against his rib cage when her scarlet tongue swipes across her pouty lower lip.

* * *

A/N: Leave a girl some reviews- I'm starving fir some constructive feedback (the more brutally honest the better). Seriously tho, if you've got suggestions (certain phrases to be said or things to be done) just gimme an itty bitty review or PM your thoughts.

P.S. I'm going to be updating randomly bc life is hectic and some days I'll just be staring at my computer screen with no tangible thoughts and on others, I can bang out like two chapters in an hour...


	4. 04

In reply to FangedMe: Thanks for the input! I totally get what you were saying about the confusion with who's thinking what and reworked the chapter slightly to avoid the issue.

* * *

 **ROSE**

"So, um, I was wondering if maybe you'd wanna go get something to eat," Peter offers hurriedly. No matter how fast he seemed to be, his train of thought would instantly come to a stop in Rose's presence.

"Sure," she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "How about Leo's?" She suggests the diner a few streets away. Peter nods.

A loud bang sounds as Rowan kicks open the door whilst hauling a large box through its precipice. The two teens jolt, startled at his intrusion. Their frazzled appearances and closeness draws a quizzical look from the man. His focus shifts between their  
faces and the mere inches between their hands, a minuscule frown creases his full lips.

"That's my brother, Rowan," Rose murmurs to the now anxious silver haired boy. "Rowan, this is my friend Peter."

He's older, maybe in his late twenties. The agitation that radiates off him is nearly palatable.

His gaze searches his sister's face for a moment, she rolls her eyes.

" **What's going on here? Who exactly is this guy?"** Rowan asks telepathically.

" **Must you constantly be so overprotective?"** Rose shoots back.

Their features look almost identical with their black hair and pale skin stretched over defined cheekbones and cleft chins, but Rose's pink-tinged face is blemish free while Rowan's is flecked with two-tone tan freckles around his defined nose.

"We're gonna go get a bite to eat, you want anything?" She asks sweetly.

"No," her brother replies, his tone is deep and rumbles in his chest like the thunder that follows lightning. Rose knows he's rejecting the thought of going out with the boy standing awkwardly between them staring at the song selection printed on the  
back of her Johnny Cash record and not the proposal of bringing him back a greasy carton of fries.

" _ **You know that's not a good idea**_ **,"** he urges in the back of her mind. Rose juts out her lower lip. " **The world isn't a safe place, and it's even more dangerous for people like us. For mutants. You know that better than anyone."**

He's worried and he has good reason to be.

* * *

One Year, Two Months, and Seventeen Days Prior

Rose holds a finger to her plush lips and smiles at the boy holding her hand. She fumbles with her house keys then finally unlocks the door and creeps inside.

"Dad?" she calls into the empty home. When silence ensues she grins widely and grips the boy's hand tighter. She leads him inside and up the twisting staircase to the upper level where her bedroom resides at the end of a dimly lit hallway beside the linen  
closet and second-floor bathroom.

"When is he coming home?" the boy, Clay, asks as he soaks in the decor of her room. It's large with gray wallpaper and oak floors, posters obscure the small swirl decorations of the walls. Her bed sits in the corner beside a large window, the charcoal  
curtains are pulled back allowing bright sunlight to stream in.

Rose makes her way to the bed and sits on the edge watching Clay look around before sitting beside her. "Late, he's working the shop," she replies. "I just wanted to make sure he didn't stop by to eat lunch or something." His large hand rests on her bare  
thigh, his rough fingers edge up her plaid skirt as he leans against her and presses his lips to her neck. As seconds pass he becomes more aggressive and weaves his other hand into her dark hair and pulls her mouth to his.

It's her first kiss and it doesn't feel anything like how she imagined. His lips are cold and wet against hers. He forces his tongue into her mouth and swipes it against hers; the alien feeling makes her want to shy away but his hand is resting on the  
back of her neck. A harsh heat builds in their mouths and Clay's hazel eyes shoot open. Suddenly, both his hands leave her and he rips away with a disgusted look.

"What the fuck," he comments disjointedly as he holds his fingers to the cracks that spread across his lips. "What the fuck, Rosemary?" He becomes panicked and jumps from the bed onto his feet, effectively knocking the lamp from her desk onto the floor.  
The light bulb shatters and there's glass all scatter about the floorboards.

"A-Are you okay?" Rose whispers, arched brows drew together and tears brewing in her eyes. Clay stares at her unblinking before uttering, "you, you're one of them."

Her mouth goes dry. She thought the gene had skipped her. Rowan and Russell inherited it and showed signs in early childhood. Rose is sixteen. Sixteen seemed too old for something so momentous to take root.

 _This can't be happening._

"You're a fucking mutant! I knew it, ya know. You've always been a little 'off'," he spits venomously. A solitary tear streaks down her cheek in an inky rivet. "Goddamn freak!"

The click of the front door goes unnoticed as Rowan slinks inside with grocery bags in his arms. A sinking feeling fills his gut upon the realization of the argument ensuing above him. He drops the paper bags to the ground, eggs crack and jars shatter.

"What the hell is going on here?" he shouts, as he runs down the hall into his little sister's room. She's sitting on her bed, lean legs pulled to her chest and mascara smudged beneath her eyes. There's a lamp haphazardly lying on the ground surrounded  
by shards of glass. A tall boy is standing on the other side of the room running his hands over his mouth and staring into the large mirror mounted on the wall. The boy's head whips in his direction.

"Let me guess, he's a freak too," Clay sneers.

Rose looks to her brother, the metallic eyeshadow is smeared around her heavy lidded eyes; her lips quiver.

"You touch her?" Rowan shouts moving quickly to grip the boy's arm while struggling to keep his mutation at bay. The boy remains silent. "Did he hurt you?" he directs to Rosemary. She shakes her head.

Clay flinches when the man shoves him into the wall and plants his hand beside the boy's head to keep him pegged against the wall. Blood is smeared across the boy's lips and drips from the jagged breaks that Rose had unintentionally inflicted in the supple  
skin.

"Get the fuck out of my house."

Clay bolts from the room, his boat shoes clicking on the floor as he hurried down the steps and to his car without looking back.

Rowan takes his sister in his arms and lets her cry into his chest. "It's alright. Everything will be okay."

 _No, it won't._

 _They're afraid of what's different._

 _Humans have always feared the unknown and we all know what they do to the things that pose a threat._

* * *

A/N: So Rosemary's powers are sorta based off of Taissa Farmiga's character Zoe Benson in AHS: Coven...it's not as strong as Zoe's black widow-esque power but it will get stronger (probably?) with time.


End file.
